


A Dragon Makes A Great Best Man

by JQ (musicmillennia)



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Blacksmith Mick, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Dragons, M/M, Modern Royalty, have a dragon has your Best Man, if you're getting married to the love of your life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 01:03:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8036224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/JQ
Summary: The proclamation has everybody reeling. With good reason, ‘cause for fuck’s sake, have you seen this?"By Royal Decree, whoever is able to Summon a Dragon may Marry—"People usually stop paying attention to blow a casket.





	A Dragon Makes A Great Best Man

**Author's Note:**

> This utter nonsense came out of nowhere lmao

The proclamation has everybody reeling. With good reason, ‘cause for fuck’s sake, have you _seen_ this?

By Royal Decree, whoever is able to Summon a Dragon may Marry—

People usually stop paying attention to blow a casket.

A few revised versions have been sent out, but that’s just because necromancers keep trying to summon dead corpses of dragons, so now it says “Summon a Live Dragon” instead. Like that makes a difference with the believable value.

Mick’s not surprised about one thing, though: King Lewis really doesn’t want his children to marry. They marry, they can secure the bloodline, which earns even more favor from the people, which at this point they practically don’t need before a coup d’état’s insisted on.

Prince Leonard, the eldest of the two siblings, is smart as fuck. He’s stopped countless wars and negotiated other kingdoms outta their entire treasuries before the delegates even noticed what was happening. And his plans, damn. He’s got so many plans for the kingdom’s future, meticulous to a fault, contingencies upon contingencies set in place, with every single one benefitting the people and getting the kingdom filthy fucking rich without a single war involved.

Princess Lisa is Athena wrapped in Aphrodite. She’s often underestimated because of her brother’s caliber, but Mick’s heard plenty of stories about her charms and fighting ability. She absolutely insisted on sharing her brother’s education. And one of the siblings have to have it—Prince Leonard can talk a delegate’s head right up their ass, but he’s not nearly as sociable outside of a council room. The people adore her.

The people adore both of them. Really, they are worth a dragon.

Mick shakes his head and goes back to his forge. If he could summon a dragon for them, he’d get the whole damn sky together and swallow Lewis whole.

 

Vulcan’s waiting for him when he gets back. If by waiting you mean rolling around in the fire again.

Mick’s not exactly sure what the village policy is on keeping lizards, what with all the preachy stigmas against them—another reason for outrage against the decree—so he keeps Vulcan under wraps for the most part. The little guy was sleeping in his coals one winter, when Mick was making a sword and wondering if he could make something as awesome as Excalibur. He just popped outta the pile, blinking his beady orange eyes at Mick like a lost traveler. Mick gave him tea, and now they’re sort-of partners.

Vulcan keeps his fires nice and hot. They stare at them together when the day’s work is finished, or even when it’s not. Fire’s awesome.

And you know what’s _really_ awesome? Okay, still fire, but other than that. Vulcan’s a _magical_ lizard.

“Where have you been?” he gripes, shaking out his body, “I made blue fire earlier and you weren’t here.”

“Are you kidding me?” Mick snaps, “Why’d you do that?”

Vulcan sniffs. He repeats, “You weren’t here.”

“Fuck you. I was getting human food.”

Vulcan rolls his eyes, which looks strange because of the whole lizard thing. “As if that’s more important.”

“’Scuse me for wanting to survive.”

“Hush-hush. You have a new order.”

Mick’s eyes light up as Vulcan retrieves the written message. He’s very graceful for a lizard, leaping from place to place and back again—if he was a dragon, Mick likes to think he’d have the best wings.

This has the Royal Seal on it.

“This has the Royal Seal on it.”

Vulcan hops onto his shoulders with a reptilian grin. His scales burn exquisitely.

“Yes it does. Are you going to open it?”

Inside is a sheaf of whispering soft, expensive parchment lined with _gold leaf_ , what the fuck.

Mick reads, “‘A ceremonial sword and a ring for whoever can summon the dragon.’ Nice.”

Vulcan blinks. “The dragon?”

“Yeah, a decree thing that was posted. Whoever can summon a dragon can marry one of the royal children. Pretty unbelievable, huh?”

Vulcan stares at him.

“What?”

Stares some more.

Mick’s brow furrows. “ _What_?”

Vulcan looks back at the paper. “Nothing. Just—processing the king’s outlandish request.”

He looks back at Mick, opening his mouth. Shuts it, shakes his head, and hops off.

“Shall we?” he says.

Weird magical lizard.

Mick grins. “Fuck yeah.”

 

A royal guard comes by. Vulcan leaps into the coals as Mick admits him.

He’s probably the most beautiful lookin’ guy Mick’s ever seen in his life. Brown hair dusted with blond, facial hair, with a roguish smirk that doesn’t match his official navy uniform.

The coals hiss. Shut the fuck up, Vulcan.

“Officer Mardon,” he says, inclining his head. “How goes your progress with the sword and ring?”

Right to business then. Mick can do that.

But—“It’s been a day.”

Mardon raises an eyebrow. Mick can’t stop staring.

 _Shut the fuck up, Vulcan_.

“And?” Mardon asks.

“I’m drafting designs. Gotta have two swords.”

“Two?”

“Well sure. Don’t know which sibling’s gonna marry, right?”

Mardon looks impressed. “That is true. Two rings as well, then?”

“Yeah. Gold for Princess Lisa, silver for Prince Leonard.”

“And here I was going to give you an advance to buy materials.”

“That’s what I was counting on.”

Mardon barks a laugh. “Of course.”

Once the money’s passed over— _whoa what the fuck holy shit_ , the Royal Family’s more loaded than Lewis’ spending sprees suggest—Mardon asks to see the designs.

“They’re not much,” Mick says, “I just started.”

Mardon’s eyes widen anyway. So much for taste.

Mick’d still fuck ‘im.

“How do you plan to carve these symbols into the blades?” Mardon asks.

Since Mick can’t say he was tutored by his mother’s cousin on account of her being an elf, he leaves it at, “I’ve done it plenty of times. It’s easier than you think once you get the hang of it.”

“And the rings?”

“Haven’t decided yet. You think I should go more for texture or design?” Maybe both. Why the fuck not? Frivolity’s what the nobility does.

Mardon shrugs. “I have served on the siblings’ personal guard for a few years now. My advice: design for the princess, texture for the prince. But they do have a penchant for dramatics.”

Of course they do.

“Thanks,” Mick grunts. After a pause, “So. You really think somebody’s gonna summon a dragon?”

Mardon smiles. “Either way, the family receives these gifts from a very skilled craftsman,” gesturing to the shitty designs. “I’d say that’s worth it.”

Mick peers at him.

“It’s a long way back to the castle. You wanna drink before you go?”

Mardon smirks and gives a curt bow. His gaze doesn’t waver from Mick’s.

“You’re a very gracious host, sir.”

 _Nice_.

 

After Mardon leaves and Mick’s buckled his belt, Vulcan shakes his head out of the coals and fixes Mick with a venomous glare.

“Must you seduce every royal guard that comes by?” he growls.

“That’s the only royal guard who’s come by,” Mick replies.

“And so you have seduced every royal guard.”

Mick hums. “Wouldn’t that be a treat?”

Vulcan rolls his eyes. “Could we get back to work, or would you like to organize an orgy?”

Mick grins. “Can’t I do both?”

Vulcan whacks him with his tail. “These are going to be our best work yet. You need to focus.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Mick scratches under his chin. “You and me are gonna blow ‘em all away.”

Vulcan makes a trilling sound. “That we are.”

 

When at last the swords and rings are finished, not a single dragon’s appeared.

“Nobody’s that powerful,” Mick says to Vulcan as he wraps the gifts in the most expensive fabric he’s ever fucking seen courtesy of the Royal Family.

“Oh no,” Vulcan drawls, “nobody.”

Mick quirks an eyebrow, but Vulcan just keeps rolling in the coals.

“Okay. Too late to head out now, so I guess we’ll just have to go tomorrow.”

“Excellent. I want to make a bonfire. To celebrate our success and whatnot.”

“Oo. I can get on board with that.”

 

So Vulcan’s a dragon. And Mick is an idiot for not noticing. _Magical lizard_. Fucking really.

After the bonfire’s lit about a mile outside the capital’s gates, Vulcan climbs out of Mick’s jacket and crawls onto his shoulder.

“Mick, I want to show you something. And it will not be reversible once I do.”

Mick’s eyes narrow. “You got a brother or somethin’?”

“No, no. I was born from coals. Your coals.”

“Uh. Okay?”

Vulcan shakes his head. “I should just go right ahead.”

With a single bound, he’s in the fire. It’s easily their biggest one yet, on his request. The reason becomes alarmingly apparent when a _giant fucking dragon_ bursts from the flames.

The creature has Vulcan’s long neck and almost shapeless head, but sinuous muscle has gained tone, stubby feet sharp talons, and the tail a fresh set of silver blades on its end. Glorious bat-like wings that snap out at the height of his jump. Moonlight pours through the dark purple, almost black membranes, highlighting their dark veins.

The dragon roars. Vulcan’s voice had already been inhuman, but now it’s too deep for any creature to imitate.

In the distance, Mick hears a gate guard yell. They are only a mile away, after all, and Vulcan is _loud_.

With a sharp _thunk_ , Vulcan lands in a crouch.

Mick says, “I’m an idiot.”

“Yes,” the dragon readily agrees, “but you redeemed yourself by acknowledging it.”

“So…how—”

“How do you think?”

“But I don’t got a bit of my mother’s magic, so _how_?”

Vulcan sits beside him. He’s twice Mick’s size, but he still tries to prop his chin on his shoulder. He ends up tilting his head and smothering the side of Mick’s head.

“You do, it just—manifested differently. Instead of connecting to the earth, you’re connected to fire. Don’t know if you noticed, but dragons are born from fire.”

“So you _can’t_ summon dragons from the sky.” Sucks.

“Stars burn,” Vulcan says, “you could if you tried.”

Mick’s eyes widen.

“I can marry Prince Leonard.”

“Yes you can.”

“And you can eat the king’s face.”

“Bones and all.”

“I gotta practice.”

Vulcan chortles deep in his chest. “I’ll do my best to help you.”

 

Mick can now cross off _Ride into a castle on a dragon_ from his bucket list.

And he can also say that Prince Leonard is _definitely_ the most beautiful man he’s ever seen in his life.

As he slides off Vulcan’s back, he shouts, “The sun counts as a star, right?”

King Lewis is on his feet and fucking ugly. He must’ve been a damn handsome man in his youth to have spawned the prettiest people in the realm.

But that doesn’t matter, ‘cause Prince Leonard’s lovely eyes are watching wide-eyed as Mick gives a sharp finger whistle at the throne room’s stained glass dome.

‘Cause he learned the trick: he thinks about Excalibur, about the dragon’s breath forging the blade. Then painted ice roses are exploding as a ball of white-gold scales plummets straight for the stone floor.

Vulcan slides across the room so they land on his stomach.

“And I got your ceremonial orders too,” Mick adds as the dragonet shakes themselves out and blinks big black eyes at the gaping audience. “I like to call myself an overachiever.”

He tosses Prince Leonard his sword first. Its silver hilt is encrusted with sapphires, but the blade itself is what Mick intended to be the real kicker: shards of ice of various sizes jutting from the base, with snowflakes flowing toward the crown at the top.

It’s pointed right at Mick’s throat before Princess Lisa can even see hers.

Vulcan roars—the tiny dragonet squeaks too—but the prince doesn’t falter.

“So now you think you’re entitled to marry my sister?”

Whoa. _Whoa_. Mick’s heard rumors about how powerful the prince’s voice is. None of them do him justice. Must be an adept at charmspeak.

Mick grounds himself in Vulcan’s snarls. “I wanna marry _you_.”

Apparently that hadn’t crossed Prince Leonard’s mind. His brow twitches, fingers flexing on his sword.

“I could give you another present?” Mick offers.

“Oh really,” the prince drawls, “and what would that be?”

“Hey Vulcan. Mind doing that thing we talked about? Only don’t do it all the way.”

Reluctantly, Vulcan acquiesces to leave the prince alone. The entire court screams as he scoops the king into his mouth and gives a good _crunch_. King Lewis cries out, but only his legs are shattered.

Mick looks back at two shell-shocked monarchs. “You wanna kill him, or…?”

“Let the dragon eat him,” Princess Lisa says. A manic smile’s growing on her face. “Lenny, let the dragon eat him.”

King Lewis spits insults that have the nobles clutching their pearls and murmuring. Whatever help he might’ve gotten is definitely gone.

Prince Leonard turns to Mick. He lowers his sword.

“Your dragon eats my father,” he says, “and I’ll marry you right here.”

Mick’s reply comes out a little hoarse: “Vulcan, eat his ass!”

 _Crunch, crunch, crunch._ The siblings watch as their father is devoured.

When the clothes are coughed up, Prince Leonard takes Mick’s hand and gets down on one knee.

Before he can say anything, Mick blurts, “Fuck yeah.”

Princess Lisa calls, “While that’s so very romantic, I have a question.”

Prince Leonard rises to his feet and beckons over the bishop. “What is it, Lise?”

The two men have the tiny dragonet shoved in their faces, Lisa’s fair hands under their forelegs. They make a creeing noise.

“May I have this?” asks the princess.

Mick blinks. “Well. Sure, if they wanna go with you.”

Another creeing noise, happier now that the princess is cuddling and cooing at them.

“I’ll ride you into battle,” she’s saying, “yes I will! Yes I will!”

Mick turns to Prince Leonard. “I like your sister.”

“Too bad,” Prince Leonard replies, “you’re marrying me.”

Vulcan stretches, content after his meal. “Shall I be your Best Man?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
